


An Ever Lit Heart

by ZorialDiamond



Series: White and Black [6]
Category: Runescape
Genre: Archaeology, Blood, Efaritay is best mom, Fight Scene, Flashbacks, Funeral, Gen, Mass Grave, Memory, More Zoricanon lore!, Nessie stop being so mean, Prologue, Reconciliation, Vanescula is done with everything, Zorial being adorable, bird's eye view, chasing the shiny, death mentions, headcanons ahoy, lots of feels, scholarly Silvy is scholarly, social awkwarness, staying relevant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:40:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23401627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZorialDiamond/pseuds/ZorialDiamond
Summary: The push for archaeological progress across Gielinor uncovers a site close to home for White Guardian Zorial Diamond. Perhaps in the ruins of Everlight's tower, she can excavate the memories that circumstance lost.
Series: White and Black [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/631679
Kudos: 6





	1. The Echoes of Memory

With the perpetual gloomy fog of Morytania, the sunless sky, the damp earth that seems to leach away one’s spirit, it would be hard for anyone to believe that there had ever been any light here. 

Yet, there were flickers of it over the waters off Sanguinesti’s eastern coast. Flickers that traced themselves to an isle, and upon the isle, a crumbled ruin of a tower and its outskirts.

Indeed, Efaritay Hallow remembered the light that was once here all too well.

Hooded, sunken face, weary brows, even her teal garb seemed to reflect the dreary palette of her surroundings, especially next to the brightness in her mind. Feathers of pinions that were once grand, but now seemed to carry an ever so slight smattering of dust. The light almost gave her a headache, how it made her brilliant and weary soul ache.

“Sigh…” She buried a face in her palm, wings rustling slightly.

“Are you going to be like this again? Feh.” A high, snakelike hissing voice interrupted as it was so often wanted to, emerging from a more naturally pale face, much brighter violets and magentas and golds. Indeed, the crimson, dark eyes of Vanescula Drakan were oft wont to judge Hallowvale’s former queen with contempt.

“There are just...too many memories. Too many feelings.” Efaritay folded her hands over her heart, looking away from the vyrelady wistfully.

“So emotional, you Icyene. This castle has a lot of memories too, does it not? Yet you’re not staring at it all sad and sentimental,” Vanescula hissed, an arm on her hip and one at her side.

“This isn’t the same and you know it,” the Icyene protested, the ever slight raising in her soft tone like the roiling of the sea before a storm in its magnitude.

However, soon both figures of Hallowvale past and Morytania present were interrupted in their less than cordial tete-a-tete.

Another Icyene, much smaller in stature than Efaritay, leapt down from Darkmeyer’s walls, gliding semi-gracefully into a landing nearby the two. Hair like a much brighter sky, eyes like the grass, white-and-gold lightly armored robes stirring up memories even further in the elder’s heart

“Ah, Zorial! I was wondering when you would visit next...It always lightens my heart seeing you, child.” Her own warm, matronly smile stirred up similar emotion in the younger Icyene, though with far less clarity, or even any real recollection at all.

“Yes, yes, welcome back, young one,” Vanescula scoffed, glancing to the side before splitting her annoyed gaze between the two. “Well, I guess there would be some benefit in your being here, given the preparations…”

“Preparations for what?” Zorial tilted her head slightly, her sing-songy tone ringing with curiosity.

“Why don’t you have a look across the water at what she is reminiscing at?” The vyrelady said, barely lifting the arm off her waist to direct her gaze.

“What...is that? Some kind of ruin? I can’t make out much of it…” Zorial muttered, squinting, holding a hand over her eyes.

“Everlight. Or, what once was it.” Efaritay clarified, her voice holding a wistful note even as it went quiet.

“Everlight…” Zorial echoed. Though the name was unfamiliar, there was an ever-so-slight pang of nostalgia in her heart - so slight she wasn’t entirely unconvinced she was mirroring what Efaritay was feeling out of sympathy. The elder shot a glance her way, and the stirring in her heart seemed to reach a boiling point.

“Yes, that old place. The orders are already in place, and my-” 

“And Zorial will be leading the effort,” Hallowvale’s former queen proclaimed, suddenly standing up straight with enough conviction to cause Vanescula to stumble back a bit.

“I beg your pardon?” The vyrelady hissed in annoyance.” I don’t see you commanding enough capable subjects to carry the sort of authority in this in any timely fashion. I won’t simply have you making this a...nostalgia field trip!” Efaritay seemed to waver for a moment, before her brow sharpened with resolve.

“...I think it’s the least you can do for her for her past efforts...and for all your brother stole from her...the life she could have had.” Now her face was twisted with a mix of tranquil fury and marked with the shadows of tears.

“E...Efaritay?” Zorial exclaimed, looking her way in wide-eyed surprise. “I...can’t say I know what you’re talking about, but I’m curious…”

“Yes, yes, PLEASE do explain, before I declare this a farce overstepping the bounds of authority we agreed on.” Vanescula’s glare seemed to rise to meet Efaritay’s as she held her arms akimbo.

“You know as well, if not better, than I do of how her being here now is nothing short of a miracle, given the fate of Zorial Diamond’s...or as it would have been, Zorial Lucai’s house.” Her determined gaze remained locked on Vanescula as the vyrelady’s face twisted in unfortunate recognition. 

“...Yes...I suppose I do,” she hissed in concedement.

Hearing the name again, though, Zorial’s eyes were drawn to further up the buildings in Darkmeyer, up the spires, to the very peak of Castle Drakan. Now there was something she remembered all too well. She probably couldn’t forget it even if she really wanted to.

In a moment, she was there, though in another world with blood red skies and in the canvas of her mind. The remnants of the Myreque by her side, bloodied and exhausted, and her likewise, hanging on by threads and prayers. And looming over them all, the immense, silver-haired, savagely regal reds, blacks, and golds, massive wingspan seeming to blot out any theoretical sun...not that there ever would be any in the ideal realm of Lord Lorwerniel Verdigyard Drakan himself.

Her last lunge at him with her blisterwood polearm failed, and she jumped back with a light glide on her own crimson-tainted plumage, changing it out for the staff by her side as she tried to call out what little hint of sun they could bring into Vampyrium from within the silvered branch. The bolts of dark energy grazed her, as the vyrelord took to the air again, seeming to have his sights on Safalaan, who was preparing another spell of his own. In a moment, she interposed herself, locking her branch with Drakan’s own sword, a crackle of determination and fury in her eyes.

Surprisingly, the vyrelord paused his assault for a moment, seemingly to take in her face, before letting out a low, amused, windy chuckle.

“Well, now...it seems I missed one. And here I thought Lucai had died aeons ago.” Drakan freed himself from her locking grip easily enough as the force of the sword snapped the blisterwood branch in half.

“You...WHAT?!” Zorial snarled, half in fury and half in confusion as her stave clattered in two clean halves on the ground.  
Now the low chuckle was nearly a hollering cackle, bloody bolts scattering the Myreque further in his sudden amusement. 

“How quaint, the little fledgling doesn’t even know. I don’t know by what miracle you survived, but it matters not,” Now, his blade seemed to glow crimson red with the very blood his violence had wreaked on his opposition gathering together. “I will snuff out the light in you, all of you, and make it nothing!

Force rang out. All seemed pushed to the periphery in a crimson burst. Veliaf and Safalaan watched in horror as the latter’s instinctively raised shield shattered in fragments of radiant cyan light on impact. Zorial had only barely withdrawn her polearm before it was blown back into one of the metal spires surrounding the platform.

The despair, the pain, the confusion...She had felt like this once before. Once, deep under the earth, against another foe with crimson eyes when the light within had first made its vengeance known. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about...and right now, I don’t care...but what I do know, is that you’ve hurt my friends, and your tyranny has reigned far too long! GAAAAAAH!” Crackles turned into sparks. Sparks, into bolts that seemed to dance along Safalaan’s own flying shards. Bolts of cyan-blue light that lanced out at Drakan, staggering perhaps more from the surprise at the sudden display of power than its actual force.

She knew, of course, that it was Vanescula’s seeming betrayal that truly turned the tides of that battle. But knowing she’d spit in the face of that wretched vyrelord’s declaration was enough at the time...even if it was entirely by accident.

“Feh...Well, if it’ll get both you and that blasted light out of my hair, fine. But you’ll need to get some qualifications first.” Vanescula conceded.

“Really…?” Zorial exclaimed, a flood of emotions rushing through her. She knew that in theory, that once Hallowvale had been her home. But, of course, the miracle that led to her surviving now took the memory from her. Perhaps now...perhaps now they’d truly return.

“I’m glad you came around to see things from our perspective, Vanescula.” Efaritay said, now with a warmer smile, now turning to Zorial. “I can only remember so much from that time, and of your closer kin...these bones of the past may do far more for you than for me. The light may be too bright for us now, but it’s not too bright for you.”

“I’m glad you think so...I’ll do you both proud!” The younger Icyene returned her smile, and a moment later, took to the skies once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, this is the first time I've posted fic in a while...not that I haven't been writing. It's just that writing has more been for limited-focus stuff like for my D&D campaign or my own personal worldbuilds, and I am of course notoriously disorganized with my fic writing. However, Archaeology has finally given me inspiration to write for Zorial herself again, and thanks to the teasers I was able to get a headstart on this. I have as of now reached Everlight proper training the skill, so keep your eyes on this space.
> 
> Oh man...Writing this reminds me of all the things in Zorial's timeline that I haven't written fic for, the events of the Myreque quests being the most pressing. However, I was able to treat that briefly here. To clarify, Zorial isn't directly related to Efaritay - Efaritay just happens to be a logical mother figure for her. Writing those interactions and descriptions was a lot of fun.
> 
> Thanks for taking the time to read, and I always appreciate kudos and comments!


	2. Making Landfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zorial's first glimpse at Everlight proper, and her first taste at what she might find there.

The official letter of invitation had come a lot earlier than expected, much to Zorial’s delight.

She had to go through some formalities to be formally accepted into the Archaeology Guild, something that was _slightly_ unusual considering her previous work, but she wasn’t in any state of mind to complain about the bureaucracy. And once that was done, she was waiting by her mailbox in Priffdinas like a child on Wintumber morning.

Less delightful was that the letter seemed to have been half-scrawled by a somewhat annoyed Vanescula. Oh well, a letter was a letter, she thought to herself, packing her things with a smile. Mattock, soil box, rations, journal, comfortable wear...Sunspear, just in case she ran into any trouble along the way. Or, perhaps carrying a piece of history felt right while exploring more of it.

Well, as it turns out, its primary purpose wasn’t needed due to the diligence of the Guild. In the blink of an eye, she was on the coasts of Sanguinesti once again; coasts much more bustling with activity, scads of wooden scaffolding, a small base camp with a workbench, many other archaeologists ambling about and working, and a certain frazzled vyrelady.

“Well, you’re certainly punctual, at the very least,” Vanescula said, remarking in some semblance of a greeting. “Welcome to Everlight proper, Zorial. Now, to my understanding, there were some places where your site access was considerably expedited. Because of this, I cannot allow you to begin properly excavating until the arrival of another party. However, in the meantime, I suppose you can have a general look around the site,” the vyrelady said, sounding like she was reading off a script.

“Another party…?” Zorial muttered to herself. A couple idle guesses drifted through her mind, but once again, it was hardly a concern. “Wait...where’s Efaritay?” She exclaimed suddenly.

“Where do you think? I’m the site manager. She’s probably back in the castle staring at that damned lighthouse wistfully,” Vanescula said, sounding like she was mentally swatting a fly.

“Alright then...I’ll have a look around. See you in a bit!.” She waved, and looked out to the snatches of the isle she could see - marble columns, in various states of repair, studded with Saradomin stars, and a rather fresh field of grass and wildflowers in comparison to the rest of Morytania across some wooden scaffolding.

Of course, unlike the other archaeologists, she wouldn’t need it. This was a place built in part for her and her kin; there was simply only one way to first experience it. 

From the air.

Twitching plumage. A slight saunter turning into a run. Crouching slightly. Leaping up with a great bound as the pinions caught the air. Gasps, as white wings were seen in the skies over Everlight for the first time in aeons. 

Zorial wasn’t sure if it was her first real glimpse of the scenery or of tasting the sweet breeze in her face that made her gasp. Sunlight, real sunlight, glinting off the marble columns, as well as motes of cyan light that seemed to wink in and out of existence and cascade like a rain of stars. To the right, there looked to be the remains of housing, and to the left, some kind of amphitheatre. Straight on, some other kind of building and the remnants of an arena. And all around, statues of winged figures of all sorts seemed to call to her, more Icyene in marble and gold than she had ever personally met. And that wasn’t even taking the grand tower of Everlight itself into the equation.

Excitement and indecision gripped her; where to fly first? She wanted to see it all, to feel the spirit of the place in her own heart and soul.

“Well, when in doubt...go left!” She dove a bit lower, and glode gently into the vicinity. The actual archaeologists seemed to be occupied with various sets of uncovered remains; her attention was drawn by surprising intact marble columns and statues. Some of them gawked as she passed by [though Zorial was a bit too absorbed to notice]. Flying over the low wall, a stage, a plinth by the water, seats, and another statue; this one with a name, Mesmodes. Who was this? Did anyone she knew know this person?

Every new view seemed to stir something new in her soul; however, nothing seemed to resonate enough just yet. “Left again, left again!~” She sang to herself, continuing her circling of the site. 

This part, aside from the housing, appeared to be filled with a considerable amount of water. More columns, more statues, and a number of gold-lined hoops. The stadium, of some kind. Being wary not to touch anything, she hovered by each of the rings, flying carefully through each of them. There were some kind of games played here, she could reckon, but no idea what they were. The light of day glinting off the waters and over the ruins, however, couldn’t help but make her smile.

Further leftward seemed to be the most pedestrian of the lot - smaller set of what looked like their equivalent of everyday dwellings. She wasn’t sure if it was intuition or latent memory that told her this. While not as grand a sight, the thought of people, her people, once living in this place, everyday life, taking walks, having meals...It was enough to warm an already bright soul.

But, of course, she’d saved the best sight for last. Everlight proper.

The lighthouse easily reached the highest in the sky of all the grand structures. While some had certainly faded with time, it was easy to see that the most opulent craftsmanship went into the great spire. Every brick, every trimming, every star inlaid with the greatest care, even despite the aeons of decay. Flanked with Icyene statues perched on columns. It was more intact than she expected it would be. And of course, she couldn’t help but be drawn upward to the great stream of cyan-white starry light streaming endlessly into the sky, seeming to praise the very sun itself in defiance to the gloom of the land it now stood in.

That light reflected into her own eyes, and deep within her soul. A spark. The stirrings, the vague whispers, seemed to finally coalesce, as shapes and images started to form in her mind. 

Somehow, the place seemed to be even brighter, and was now bustling with much more activity. So many...so many, not just Icyene, there were humans ambling along the streets, and she could swear she even saw some other races mixed in, though not in enough detail to identify. Some in casual wear, some armored, some in more extravagant billowing robes. There was singing, though not in one consistent song. 

And she wasn’t alone in the sky. To her left, a male Icyene with short teal locks, piercing aquamarine eyes, a slightly grizzled brow, adorned in lightly armored gold, white, and blue robes, not too unlike her own. To her right, a woman, matching similarly in attire, radiant platinum locks and silvery eyes, and a soft face and smile as warm as that bright sun.

“You see that, Zorial? That’s Everlight. The light of the first arrival on this world, and a beacon of hope. Isn’t it beautiful?” Her voice was lilting, beautiful, like it could swell into song at any moment. She said, flying closer and patting her on the head.

“It...it really is...Wow!” The voice that came out, much higher and more squealy. She couldn’t help but clap her hands.  
  
“Heh! Not just a lighthouse though, my dears. Not just a base, either! It’s a home, a refuge, and for more than just us.” The man put a hand on her shoulder and spoke, his tone a lot more jovial than his appearance might suggest.

“Will I get to live here too one day, daddy?” She glanced back to the woman. “Mommy?”  
  
“I suppose that depends on where you’re called, sweetie,” the woman responded. 

“Heh, no matter where it is, you’ll shine like you always do!” A hearty bit of laughter.

“I’ll do you both proud, you’ll see!” Clenched hands...hands a fair bit smaller than even her own now.

It took nearly falling for Zorial to regain her bearings again. And once she had, she couldn’t help but put a hand on her cheek. The slight moisture of a single tear.

“Was that...what I think it was?” She mused to herself, still feeling the ripples of the tide of emotion. She wasn’t even sure how much time had passed...but she broke herself out of her reverie long enough to remember Vanescula would probably be VERY annoyed if she was gone for too long. And this other party, whoever it was.

The flapping to return to base camp was certainly a lot more frantic. Fortunately, much to her relief, the vyrelady didn’t seem to be any more irritated than usual, and indeed seemed to have some clutch of documents in hand.

“There you are. You spent a bit longer gawking than I would have liked, but the party in question has now arrived at the site,” Vanescula exposited, seeming to sign off on a couple forms with a distinctly opulent bat-adorned ink pen of some kind.

“So...Who is the party?” Zorial inquired, looking around for the new arrival.

“From what I am told, the main individual is a higher ranking member of the Guild and the one who did the work to expedite your passage. He made some arguments for your presence here that the members of the guild seemed to find...particularly persuasive,” the vyrelady reported, though with some disdain. 

“He…?” She remarked, before then the pieces clicked in her mind. “Wait, no, it couldn’t be…”  
  
As she was pondering this, an individual indeed approached, wearing garb much like the other archaeologists she had seen, only with a hooded cloak, more extensive covering and a mix of navy, blue, and dark purples in its coloring. The badge on his lapel definitely was a fair bit fancier than the other guild members she’d seen. Removing the hood revealed a gaunt grey face scarred with shadow, silvery white hair, and eyes with the cyan pinpricks of undeath. He looked to her and then to Vanescula, as a pair of other presumed guild interns followed after him.

“It really is!” Zorial exclaimed, putting her hands together.

“Indeed,” he nodded, his voice a calm, measured whisper on the winds. He turned to the vyrelady and gave a perfunctory bow. “Greetings, site manager Vanescula and guild intern Zorial. Archaeology Guild Associate Silvarius Ivanov at your service.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, I'm on a roll! This is really fun to write, and lets me use some ideas that have been in Zori's canon for a while in my head but haven't really gotten proper expression in ink and pen as it were. The site really is gorgeous, and there's certainly plenty of material for a fair amount of chapters, so watch this space!
> 
> From the instant I learned about Everlight, I got the idea of "Zorial explores it and gets Breath of the Wild esque memory flashbacks" - this is just the first of many. And oh man...the feels. This piece really made me feel them. I drew Zorial's parents a while ago in college, maybe I should make them some more updated art in the future.
> 
> As for the end, and why a certain OC turned up...well, stay tuned for next chapter! :3
> 
> Thanks for taking the time to read this, and as always, feedback is appreciated!


	3. Deadeyed Expertise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the Fallen Angels mystery. The dead help the dead speak, and receive a belated honor.

“Silvy! It’s been way too long!” Zorial exclaimed, nearly skipping up to the rather scholarly wight. “I had no idea you were in the Guild...or that you were so high up in it!”

“Indeed, it has, seems like we’ve both been absorbed in our work,” Silvarius replied, dusting off his cloak.

“Have you seen Alcana around lately too? I don’t think I’ve seen her in a while either.” The younger Icyene inquired.

“Afraid not. Last time we talked, she was up to her ears in official Shieldsworn business,” Silvarius remarked, seeming to organize several instruments on a toolbelt under a coat.

“That’s a shame, but I suppose it can’t be helped. In any case...it’s great to be working together on something that doesn’t involve shooting something in the face for once, right?” She said, with a seemingly odd amount of glee.

“Indeed...as it turns out, this work is rather in my element. I’ve made good use of my talents with ancient shadow magic at the site in Kharid-et...not that they’ve done me much good in the immediate past, ” he said, with a not quite slight note of frustration.

“Did you get stuck on something?” Zorial inquired, scratching her chin.

“Yes. There seem to be various devices scattered around the site that serve as anchors of the Shadow Realm when powered. I managed to get two of them on, and give some ancient spirits some fresh air. But the third one seems to be a lot more stubborn than the others,” the wight sighed. “Hopefully the other interns will have found something by the time I’m done with this, well, rather welcome detour.”

“Yeah...You’ll have to catch me up on what you’ve worked on since I last saw you!” The Icyene smiled, as the two and their small entourage then climbed over the scaffolding into the site proper.

“I suppose it’d probably be best to start at the beginning, seeing as it has indeed been a while and our last conversation had more to do with stopping a world-ending ritual deep beneath the waves,” Silvarius said. “Funnily enough, I was mostly interested in catching up on what had happened on Gielinor since...well, according to my calculations, the early 4th Age.”

“That’s right, you have been around a while,” Zorial remarked. 

“Not that it means all too much, given that the overwhelming span of it was spent locked in a crypt. But yes...reading up on history books, becoming pen pals with Reldo, an eventual in-person interview, touring the Senntisten digsite...and then that fellow Dr. Jeremiah Goodman turned up trying to make his big break.”

“Oh...The Curator, you mean? I can see how you’d have been a big help with that, he was looking into the Heart, wasn’t he?”  
  
“Yes, indeed. A boon for us both,” the wight said, wistfully. “Some use for all that nonsense other than violence.”

“And then the ball just got rolling from there, didn’t it? I’m so glad…” There were very few hearts the toothy smile Zorial displayed couldn’t warm.

“Yes...Suddenly, it turned out there is a lot of demand for an aspiring scholar who doesn’t have the same concerns about dying. I have a great many other pen pals, some of which seemed to even indicate they knew you at least in passing...Dr. Nabanik says hi, by the way.” He recounted with the shadow of a smirk.

“I bet he does...” She replied, fidgeting with her hair and looking off to the side.

“But yes...ever since the ruckus with the monolith and the guild needing more proper talent, I guess my track record for more innovative, unique, and shall we say, ‘hands on’ methods of scholarship was enough of an argument for me to climb the ranks quickly.” Silvarius slowed, surveying the same gravesite excavation Zorial had only seen in passing before.

“You’re really smart...You deserve it, after all you’ve been through...I can hardly imagine…” She said, concern and sadness on her face.

“I suppose it worked out to its own good in some way. In any case...it’s a good pastime while my soul’s stuck here.” For a moment, the wight mused, staring out across the exposed masses of bones. “Anyhow, speaking of the fellow dead…Let us hear what they have to say.”

Seeming to move his fingers between the mounds, he settled on one, and began to draw out his tools - his own mattock, the phantasmal green of necronium, as well as a collection of brushes, a soil box, a quill pen and an immaculately kept journal, which he flipped open to reveal similarly elegant cursive notes. “Now, follow my lead,” he said, using the pick end of the mattock to chip away tenderly and carefully around an exposed rib bone. 

“Wow...you’re really precise and careful…” Zorial commented, crouching and leaning in watching him work.

“Let’s just say I have a bit more interest than most here in making sure that the dead remain respected throughout this work, for...obvious reasons,” he said, pointing to his own very dead skin. “There may be plenty of dogmatism accrued over the centuries in modern Saradominist practice, but the heart of the shunning of necromancy is not one of them. But...I digress…” Silvarius rambled.

“Seems like a lot of these were buried very quickly, and there aren’t a lot of complete pieces,” Zorial observed sadly, looking over where other places had been exhumed.

“Well, that sort of thing tends to happen when a place is sacked. As much as one’s due is to the dead, it should not come at the expense of the living,” the wight continued to wax philosophical.

“Why don’t you try, Zorial?”

Zorial nervously and shakily withdrew her own mattock. Seeing corpses and bones in various states of decay wasn’t an issue for her; she could hardly get anywhere as a competent Slayer, let alone any kind of Master, without being very used to viscera in all states of dismemberment and decay. No, it was the thought that just now occurred to her looking over this specific grim sight that caused her hesitation.

“These...could have been my own relatives…” she whispered, with a slight quivering sadness.

“Mmmm…” Silvarius paused momentarily, looking over the site. “True...but I don’t think they would have wanted their passing to mean nothing. As I said...this is one of the few ways we can hear them speak without disturbing their eternal rest. Oh...Here’s a bit of metal.” The wight gestured to a rusty glint emerging from the saltwater soils.

“I think I’d feel better trying to uncover that,” she said, sounding somewhat relieved. Taking her own mattock in hand, she carefully mimicked Silvarius’s movements, chipping away at and dusting away the soil, sneezing a bit as she worked at it. 

“So...hey, how’d you get that mattock? It didn’t look like any on sale at the Guild…” Zorial inquired, thinking of conversation to fill the gap in time.

“It wasn’t too hard to convince Linza to have a go at an original project for the first time in a while, and necronium metal bears something of a likeness to the armor the Brothers use. It’s served me quite well so far.” He replied.

“Neat…” Zorial trailed off a bit, before the conversation slowly became as dead as the excavated bones. Time seemed to pass with a certain solemn silence. Bit by bit, careful bit by careful bit, they emerged from the soils.

“Oh my...this one seems quite complete, by comparison…” Silvarius observed, tending to the white Icyenic bones like a precious gem. 

“This is… strange...it looks like some kind of an...iron?” Zorial remarked, tapping what looked like a rusted pan with a winged emblem of some kind.

“Ah, that looks like a proper artefact of some kind. Keep at getting it loose...I’ll continue with this,” the wight encouraged softly.

An eternity and no time at all, and soon what was buried was revealed on the surface. The iron, seemingly laid across the remarkably intact corpse, seeming to preserve it.

“Well now...This is fascinating. Perhaps that ‘iron’ had something to do with how this corpse was so well preserved,” Silvarius theorized, a gloved spindly hand curled around a neck seemingly strangled by shadow itself in the past.

“...Maybe Vanescula knows something about this? Although I wouldn’t want to bother her too much, she seems to get annoyed at everything right now,” Zorial suggested, holding up a finger.

“It’s worth a try. We’ll need to be careful transporting these,” he advised. “Allison, Brian, would you be kind souls and help get the tarps?” He said, giving a light nod to the gawking interns.

“Right on it, Silvy!” Allison replied, her pink pigtails bouncing in the breeze, while the more plain-haired Brian simply nodded and rolled out the tarp and poles in question, as the small party prepared to make their way across the scaffolding.

“Ah, there you are. Have you found the lightswitch yet?” Vanescula inquired, with the shadow of a twitch on her eyelids.

“...We just got started. It will take a considerable amount of time, I am sorry.” Silvarius replied. “But...we did find a few things of interest worth restoring.

“Out with it,” the vyrelady barked.

“A remarkably well preserved Icyene corpse in the Prodromoi mass graves, as well as some kind of iron it was buried with,” Zorial piped up, cradling the rusted and damaged artefact in her hands.

“Look, I don’t need a guilt trip on top of everything else. It’s my brother. 95% of the time, it’s my brother. What do you expect me to do?” Vanescula hissed. “Those…’frying pans’ were commonly used for Icyenic burials. I don’t know, there’s some open graves near the tent. Do what you want. I have documentation to do.” Her voice seemed to suggest that bureaucratic nonsense was better than this nonsense.

“Well now...There’s an idea,” Silvarius said, glancing in that direction. “I think you can help me with this.”

“So...You’re saying we should restore this…pan...and then do the burial job more properly?” the young Icyene said, looking at Silvarius and following his eyes.

“Yes...whoever this was, giving them this respect is something I’m sure they would have wanted. Brian, you’ve got the materials you’ve excavated, correct? We can get started with those.” The intern nodded, moving to the workbench and motioning Zorial and Silvarius to follow.

“Right...it appears to have been iron encasing marble. First, we repair the cracks in the base like this…” He affixed the bits of marble, the two with him taking notes and Zorial looking on in awe as he worked with care and speed. “Then...the iron. It’s a bit different working with an earlier form of iron, but not too terribly difficult in comparison. Then, take care to the engravings…”

Moments later, the ‘frying pan’ now seemed to be polished to a brand new shine.

“Amazing…” Zorial remarked, finding it odd even herself how something so grim could spark something in her soul.

“Now...time for an aeons-late service,” the wight announced, holding out his hand as the interns carried the bones like a funerary procession.

With care, they lowered it into the grave, Zorial similarly placing the artefact. Silvarius drew out his journal and a holy symbol from under his cloak, seeming to hold it like a book of scripture before clearing his throat to speak.

“Blessed Saradomin, we honor the sacrifice this nameless soldier made to protect the lives of the people of Everlight and your light and order many aeons ago. We pray their soul rests in peace with you, and that their life and so many others may not be in vain, granting us insight into the world of the past to enlighten our presence. In Your holy name, amen.”

For a moment, a solemn silence hung in the air, as then Brian and Allison took their cue to replace the earth on top of the open grave. Zorial’s eyes lingered a little bit longer, however.

Suddenly in her mind, she was in a much brighter graveyard, this one seemingly near a grand marbled manor she’d never seen before, in a much more hallowed cemetery. The faces, aside from the ones she presumed were her parents, were vague, So too was the sermon and song. However, the open casket, with remains clad in armor and holding a teal and gold trimmed buckler were unmistakable. So too, was the caption on the headstone.

_‘Sorelius - Defender, Seeker, Father. May House Lucai ne’er forget his name.’_

Well, she wouldn’t be forgetting it now. She couldn’t help but smile.

“No...the pain wasn’t in vain indeed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Silvarius makes an appearance again! Based on how I've developed him, he seemed the most likely among my OCs to get real deep into Archaeology...for reasons I really should have written fic about, but never got around to, so this time you get the Sparknotes version. Having him along for this venture seemed to make a lot of sense, in both the larger and smaller details. This chapter was actually originally called Expert Help, but given the waxing philosophical about the dead, I went with something a little more punny and appropriate to the scholarly wight. Also, at this point I might just call him a Dead Rights Activist after the yarns he goes on, LOL.
> 
> I play around with the mechanics of the skill proper here; excavation, restoration, guild ranks, even being able to use research teams. Being able to add in notes like that really helps bring it to life, I think.
> 
> UPDATE: There is now art for Silvy's new duds, though with some extra bells and whistles. https://twitter.com/zorialdiamond/status/1254495476101066758?s=20
> 
> This chapter is definitely a bit more bittersweet in comparison - though not completely depressing, given old friends catching up again. I've got notes for nearly every mystery I've gotten some headway on, and that trend's only gonna continue. Hope you enjoyed, and as always I appreciate feedback!


	4. Hail to the Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the Queen of the Icyene mystery. Rediscovery of what was forgotten, physical and of memory, strengthens bonds.

“To think I’d even see it again, ever…” Efaritay mused.

She was once again at that tall window in her room, many stories up and on the eastern side of Castle Drakan. Away from the view of Darkmeyer below, and filled with far different decor than the rest of the castle. Blue and gold tapestries, candelabras, enough Saradomin symbols to make a star chart. It was almost enough to make her forget about where she really was at the moment.

Her eyes widened as she observed out of said window. The tiniest shadow, dotting Everlight’s light, that flitted about like a moth around a lantern. There was no doubt in her mind as to who that was. A smile. Lost in thought, she failed to notice the knocking at the door of a visitor, and the door’s subsequent opening.

“Hello, mother,” Safalaan greeted warmly, walking in with a tray of two aromatic smelling porcelain cups of fellstalk and tarromin tea. She turned around wordlessly, taking her own cup from the tray and returning to her seat by the window. Soon, the not-so-young man joined her.

“Is something bothering you?” he inquired, following her gaze to the tower.

“No...or, at least it isn’t mainly bothering,” she replied. “It is...merely a bit overwhelming.” She took a long, measured sip.

“I can only imagine,” he replied.

It was far from the first, or only day they would be finding themselves gazing over the illumination of the past from afar. That illumination was currently happening at a quiet and steady pace as Zorial and Silvarius’s mattocks and brushes picked over what appeared to be unicorn remains while Allison and Brian shadowed.

“Wow...they really put a lot of effort into outfitting the unicorns, didn’t they? I bet they all looked fantastic in the day…” the young Icyene nearly squealed as she observed the faded gold and blue saddle-like implement emerge from where Silvarius gingerly applied the brush.

“Yes...Perhaps we’ll have more of an idea once we can properly restore it, and let it catch the light of the Everlight again,” Silvarius mused. “Though putting it on an actual unicorn might be a bit much, even if properly restored.”

  
“Aww…” Allison moaned, looking a little crestfallen.

“Perhaps if you’re so intrigued, you can try your hand at a replica,” Silvarius suggested, and the young archaeologist nodded gleefully.

In hours that felt like no time at all, a matching headpiece emerged as well. They had carefully taken the find to the bench, and as Silvarius worked, something caught Zorial’s eye. An odd stray piece of vellum with some writing on it.

“Silvy, hey, be careful, I think there’s some kind of written thing there! Right under those leather scraps!” She gestured somewhat wildly, and the wight nodded, removing the ancient parchment with ginger fingers. 

“It looks...if I’m not mistaken, an earlier, more archaic form of Icyenic. Much as I would have liked, my studies have more been around in understanding Infernal at the moment due to its more immediate practical applications to my work. From what I can tell...something about a marriage, ordaining one over the other, goodwill between Icyene and humans…” The wight paused. “Perhaps you could try reading it?” He passed the page over. “Worst comes to worst, we can try and contact Alcana for it.”

“I...I can try... the content sounds a little familiar. I’m not sure how far I’ll get, but I’ve looked into it a bit more myself...” She said, turning it over, front and back. 

Some scanning. Some tracing of words. A slightly opened mouth. Widened eyes. “Aaaaah….Ah! I think I know what this might be…” She said, suddenly smiling. “It looks like...part of a journal! And I think I know whose it might be!”

“Oh, really now?” Silvarius said, peeking over her shoulder. “There may be more pieces buried around here. Perhaps finding those may confirm your suspicions.”

“I sure hope so...She must have really missed these…” Zorial said, glancing upward. Though her eyes only met the tent’s roof, she knew further up her line of sight was Castle Drakan.

“Well, I suppose in addition to what else we might excavate, we have our work cut out for us,” the wight commented, then swinging his gaze around to his interns. “I suppose I can trust you lot to bring any stray pieces of vellum you find to us?” 

“Roger that,” Brian replied with a small salute, while Allison was already halfway across the scaffold.

“And please be careful,” Silvarius shouted after.

Soon, there was now a damaged unicorn headdress, a lantern, three more collections of loosely bound pages, and an ear plugged Vanescula as the tent remained filled with the teams’ activity.

“So...Do tell me if these other pages seem to belong to the same document, and if the document is what you thought,” the wight said, gazing intently at Zorial.

“Gimme a moment, gimme a moment...I gotta get them in order first…” Her eyes furiously scanned the ancient parchment, carefully laying out the pages in one order, then another, then another, before the tension in the air seemed to spark in her eyes.

“Oh my, it is, it really is! This seems like it’s from a journal Efaritay herself wrote…” She proclaimed, with wistful excitement. “Coming here...having the lighthouse built to have the Icyene adjust...making a base a home...a marriage to cement it…” As she continued to scan the last page, though, her face drooped. “...One untimely retreat ruining everything.” 

“Mmmm…” Silvarius said nothing. It was rare to smell the faint but definite wisps of despair that seemed to coil off her spirit. “Well… if that’s what you think…”  
  


“...We’ll need to get it from the unicorn’s mouth.” She replied.

It wasn’t long before Efaritay and Safalaan heard an unexpected knock at the door. 

“Hello, who is it?” the latter inquired, rising from his seat by the window.

“It’s Zorial...We found something in the excavation recently we wanted to confirm the identity of,” she replied. It wasn’t long before the door was opened, and she entered into what looked like a part of an entirely different building.

“Ah...come in,” Efaritay said, turning her head without leaving her own position. “I’m sorry, if I knew you were coming by today, I would have asked some tea for you as well…”

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t expecting to be here today either, heh...” She ruffled her hair a bit, then joined the other two by the window.

“So...what did you find?” Efaritay asked.

“I believe...pieces of some journal of yours. Though, I have no idea why they were there among the bones…” Zorial reported, finger to her chin.

Her face betrayed a look of subtle recognition, followed by a certain sadness. She was silent for several moments.

”That is...because I tore them out myself, in my grief.”

“Mmmm…” Zorial echoed the silence in turn. “...I guess I was right about one thing, at least…” The younger Icyene scooted towards her elder, intent to hear the insight of the former Queen. “Though...I don’t know...don’t remember enough of the language to understand it all just yet.”

Efaritay sighed deeply. “...It certainly didn’t erase the memories of penning them, long as they’ve been gone...it can’t undo what happened.”

“The...archon...pulling support from Hallowvale and leaving you all to your own devices against Drakan, if I read correctly?” She inquired, with a voice walking graciously on eggshells.

“Yes...And I’m afraid one of the things he cited was something rather close to you as one of his many justifications for what can be described as...well, many things, selfishness, cowardice...but could only truly be called treachery.” Her eyes took on a sudden change, gaining a steely sheen as she continued to speak and look Zorial’s way.

“It couldn’t be...House Lucai being destroyed, could it…” Zorial speculated, her eyes showing the shadows of tears.

“Precisely...and also how it happened setting a precedent.” She cleared her throat, and sat up more straight. “You see...Drakan actually hardly personally laid a hand on the whole affair, brutal as it all was.”  
  
“...Wait, that doesn’t sound right.” Zorial’s brow furrowed. “He...well...certainly seemed to relish a lot in recounting its demise.”

“...An example of his coldly efficient brutality. The last leader...Gloria Lucai, Saradomin save her soul...He ambushed her, and twisted her into a horror that they could barely defend themselves against.” Once again, she sighed, a deep, soulful sigh, the silence filling the room deafening. 

“You can’t mean...a Wyrd...Dear gods…” the younger gasped, as a chill went through her body and she couldn’t help the brief glance in Safalaan’s direction. He said nothing, but his eyes betrayed a deep contemplation.

“If I had to guess... whatever your own parents did to hide you from that massacre is what left you the way you are now. I have no proof, of course...but I do know what I’ve done in similar circumstances...to keep that light alive.” Now both sets of eyes were on him.

“No...that sounds right…” 

She blinked...and for a moment, the two faces in the room were two others, both distant and familiar, hidden away in the shadows together in some dark catacomb.

“What’s gonna happen to me, Mama?” A quivering voice, seemingly from a phantom of her own throat.

“It’s going to be alright dear...A very bad thing has happened, but we found a way to keep you safe…” She could feel her hair being stroked, the lilting tones calm your soul.

“Once this is all over...Even if it isn’t us, someone will come find you. You’ll be better off…” The face of what she presumed was her father seemed to be barely restraining tears.

“It’s...it’s really gonna be alright? I’m scared…” She was much less adept at holding back her own. 

“It will be eventually...I promise…”

  
  
  


Now the faces of Efaritay and Safalaan looked on in concern back in the present. She shook her head a couple times. “...Now I’m sure you’re right.”

“Did you remember something?” her companion in the former Myreque inquired.

“Y...Yes…” She confirmed. 

“You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that…” Efaritay mused, coming in closer to both of the younger ones, and putting her hands on both their shoulders, the warmth in her eyes enough to melt a small glacier.

“You two...you two are among the most precious blessings I’ve ever had.Of course, I’ve already spoken much of you, son of my blood, the blood of the new peace in this blighted land…”

The two remained quiet, content to take in the outpouring of emotion.

‘And you, Zorial...You may as well be my own now, a champion of a light that was declared dead so long ago. Even if both your paths may differ from that of old...both your hearts and souls shine with that same brilliance I so missed.”

A weighty silence. A kaleidoscope of affections, reflected across the windows and onto all three faces.

“W...Wow…” Zorial exclaimed, the first to break it. “I guess...when I’m around you guys, I feel a lot more at home than I would be otherwise…”

“Of course...The rebuilding is slow, but sure, every passing day…” Safalaan echoed.

They lingered a little longer, before Efaritay removed her hands and stood again.

“Pardon me...All this has left me a bit more overcome than usual,” she apologized, dusting herself off. “I shouldn’t keep either of you from your work for much longer.”

“No, no, it’s alright!” Zorial countered, holding up her hands. “I think we all needed that. Though...you are right, I have to go help write a report.”

The recovered accounts of the past, while certainly great, were not the greatest treasure restored that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, that was one feelsy and weighty chapter (probably why it took a bit longer than some of the others). And to think I spun all that out of what was mechanically an RNG lore drop!
> 
> I suppose this chapter is my logical answer to "Well, isn't she RIGHT THERE?!" that would naturally arise in the game proper. I freaking loved this one, both the source material and composition - if Effie was 100% Zori's new mom before I started this skill, she's 500% it now, and I wanted to go ham on that. Not to mention, plenty of places I could dovetail into more significant details of Zorilore. The language barrier element is something not too often addressed in game for anti-frustration features, but I figured here it'd make a lot of convenient lore and narrative flow sense.
> 
> ...I really don't have much else to say here other than FEELS. I hope you enjoyed the read, and thanks for taking the time!


	5. Let the Games Begin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for the Fall and Rise mystery. The excavation in Everlight moves into the Coliseum with chasing after shinies and some mishaps, and brings to mind bonds in the past and present.

Just about the only thing that stopped morning after morning’s sunrise over the Everlight excavation from resembling its presumably idyllic past self was the ruined state of the buildings and columns. Also, the moaning of some obscure horror echoing out from the not so distant forest of the Sanguinesti coast.

Well, idyllic or not, it was still as good as any alarm clock to rouse the small party from their slumber at the camp. Well, the three who were sleeping, anyhow. Allison, Zorial, and Brian eventually emerged from their tents near the site to see Silvarius already perusing and making notes in his archaeological journal. 

“Ah, you’re finally awake,” he remarked, closing the book, observing Allison and Zorial combing their respective pink and blue hair and putting in hair ties and headbands. 

“Silvy, can we dig somewhere that isn’t a mass grave today? I know that’s kind of your schtick, but it gets depressing after a while, you know?” Allison remarked, getting the last of her own supplies in order and rubbing the last bits of drowsiness from her eyes.

“I agree,” Zorial echoed, folding her hands together. “Do you have another part of the site that needs work today?”

“Hmmm...I do understand your concerns,” the wight replied, with a slender finger on his chin. “Let’s see...Mariah’s team is at the amphitheatre already, Marcus was at the residential spots...Ah, I know. The coliseum.”

“Coliseum...Yeah, I think there was something in Efaritay’s journal about that! This ought to be interesting!” The young Icyene clapped a couple times and flashed an eager smile.

“Sounds like we have a plan, then, don’t we?” Silvarius smiled, doing one last scan of the tools about his person. “Those ruins aren’t going to excavate themselves.” With an arm outstretched and a finger pointed, the four were well underway to another basking in the revelations of the Everlight.

”Man...how do any of you get to sleep out there? It takes me forever…” Brian muttered, seemingly to no one in particular. As they crossed the scaffolding, some more careful than others, he let out a particularly deep-seated yawn. 

“I can’t speak for the others of course, but I don’t sleep. I don’t really need to.” Silvarius remarked casually. He was scanning the site and pointing the group to a set of ruins past the previous days’ graves and closer to the water. “And even if so...I grew up here in much less peaceful times. You get used to it.”

“See...There’s my reason why! You’re probably one of the biggest badasses in the entire Guild!” Allison laughed, and Silvarius paused for a moment and glanced back at his intern, looking a bit flustered.

“...Well, thank you, Allison, that’s certainly much kinder than a lot have said. Literal creature of darkness, and all.” He ran some fingers through his hair and on the hem of his collar before continuing a brisk pace.

“Is that it over there?” Brian questioned, pointing towards some pillars and partial walls in the water. Anticipating a yes, he started to loosen the straps on the tarps he carried.

“Yep, I think that’s it!” Zorial exclaimed, nearly bolting ahead of the rest of the group before catching herself. “Circle walls, the hoops, the Icyenic statues, this looks like a coliseum if ever there was one!”

“You’d be right. It might be nice to enjoy the light, so we’ll go for the spot nearest to the water today. I see you’re all on top of your preparations,” he smiled and commended, seeing Allison with soil boxes in order and Zorial brushing away at some of the looser mud. Not long after, he joined in himself.

However, the young Icyene’s mind couldn’t help but wander in the surroundings. The stone hoops, gold trim gleaming in the lights. Shoals of fish, swimming in between the seaweed and the crumbled marble structures beneath the water. The handiwork on the Icyenic statues, wings outspread and robes flowing, somehow standing so well against the decay of time and waves. 

Then, it seemed one of the glints flitted away with a mind of its own, like an animate piece of gold leaf. Her hands dropped her tools and her feet moved towards it before her mind could catch up. It certainly took Silvarius a moment to realize his technical charge was now scampering around the coliseum grounds while occasionally batting at something like a kitten playing with string.

“Zorial...what are you doing?!” The wight exclaimed, somewhat baffled, and set down his tools to go chase after her. She seemed to be entranced, heading to another of the coliseum’s buildings with a much more present roof. Closer and closer, to what they had collectively tentatively identified as podiums in some gazebo beyond.

“Zorial, please watch it, you’re about to-” However, Silvarius’s warning came a little too late. As he reached out to try and stop her, he found she already had been stopped. By running face first into the base of one of the less generic Icyenic statues. 

“...Crash.” He stared a bit dumbfoundedly at the now dazed young Icyene, her hands tightly cupped around something. “What got into you?”

“Oh…” She uttered, shaking her head. “Owww… I really should have watched where I was going...but look!” She opened her hands to reveal her prize. A small butterfly, wings shimmering gold. Her eyes were drawn up towards the statue as the butterfly alighted from her hands and landed on one of the statues’, a, Icyene woman’s, held high to the sky with wings outspread.

“I suppose that could have gone worse…” Silvarius muttered, crossing his arms and also beholding the marble work before him. “Now what...or rather, who, is this?”

“The inscription says…” Zorial squinted, then rubbing her hands along the marble base. “Padosan.” She looked up the statue in more detail. “But it seems to be missing something...like the hand was meant to hold something?”

Silvarius squinted, and nodded. “It’s likely whatever was meant to be there is somewhere in the debris. Keep your eyes peeled, friends.”

It didn’t take long, and yet all too long, among a score of medals of bronze and silvthril inscribed with a whole galaxy of Saradomin stars, to find an appropriate candidate. Allison raised a somewhat beaten down torch high into the sky after freeing it from the debris.

“Good find,” Brian commented; it was Silvarius’s keen eyes that noticed, and deft fingers that then caught the parchment that was dislodged from the torch’s rim.

“...Please...be careful with the excavated artefacts, Allison. I understand your enthusiasm, but you can end up damaging other things in the process…” The wight held his head with one hand as he squinted at the parchment held in the other.

“Well, now, here’s a familiar name that jumps out...some journal of the statue’s likeness herself. I suppose we should be grateful for written records like this...” He carefully slid the parchment into a leather folio. 

“I think we know where that...torch thing...goes!” Zorial perked up. And so did the rest of the crew, before a now shiny marble and silvthril encrusted torch and a small collection of pages were before them on the restoration table. Silvarius tapped his notes, clearing his throat to speak.

“This is...an interesting tale...games carried from planet Hallow for inspiration and training for war...A sibling rivalry, between Padosan herself, and her brother Padomenes…and a terrible accident of the former’s pride that left her crippled. Though, a friendship between her and a Siren healer as a result of Everlight’s integration of other Saradominist allies let her compete in another way…”

“Padomenes?...” Zorial exclaimed, trembling somewhat.

“I’m assuming from that exclamation that you know this individual,” the wight observed, replacing the pages.

“Y...Yeah...We talked a bit during the Battle of Lumbridge, when I signed up to fight in the hopes of learning more about my heritage...I ended up fleeing before it was over, though, because of all the destruction…” She glanced downward, a grimace spreading across her face. “To be fair, everything was kind of a mess for me back then.”

“Mmmm...Yes, I see,” Silvarius nodded, carefully grabbing the restored torch. “Well, I know what might cheer you up...Flying up to the statue, and giving it this.”

Instantly, Zorial’s eyes looked like they might light the torch all by themselves. She clasped it gingerly in both hands, looking it up and down in wonder. She took off without much warning, forcing Silvarius to run and warp through the shadows when possible to keep up. Before either knew it…

_CLUNK!_

Everlight’s athletic champion carried the torch once again, and the base of the statue creaked open. Its only treasure, a singular, shining golden medal, on a blue ribbon, which Silvarius retrieved. He looked up at Zorial, then passing the find to her.

“Perhaps the memories of nostalgia from the one who survived will tell us more.” He eyed her up and down, noticing the still quite apparent trembling. “...On your own time, of course.”

“No...I needed to do this eventually.” Zorial gulped, then letting her tense shoulders drop and her brow furrow as she 

Finally, mid afternoon the next day, she landed atop the gleaming white walls of Falador Castle...and then sat there, overlooking the courtyard, before then hiding herself behind one of the towers. A spot she stayed for a while, medal in hand, trembling somewhat as she watched the Icyene in question run some of the knights through drills. She couldn’t approach him in front of all of them, no, it’d be so hard to talk to him in front of all of them.

And so she sat, for another two hours, before the sun started to set and the knights started to return to their quarters one by one. Padomenes himself looked to be leaving too, before he looked up, his eyebrows raised.

“...Are you still there, Zorial? Is there something you wanted?” 

“Oh...Oh, yes, there is…” She gingerly emerged, poking out and then nearly tripped and fell over the wall before spreading her wings to right herself before walking over to the much elder Icyene. “I just didn’t want to bother you while you were giving your lessons.”

“I...understand...so what did you need?” He put his lance aside and folded his hands behind his back, twitching his wings slightly.

Zorial took a deep breath and glanced aside, kicking at the dirt in the courtyard. “Actually...I have something you might be interested in...from Everlight.” 

Suddenly, Padomenes’s eyes seemed to light up like the fabled eternal lighthouse itself. “You...can’t mean…?”  
  
“Yeah, it’s back, somehow, and we’ve been excavating it...well, one of my friends has done a lot of the work, but I’ve been helping…” She paused for a moment before shakily, steadily, holding out the medal on one hand. “You wouldn’t happen to know a Padosan, would you…?”   
  
Stark silence. The shine of the ancient medallion seemed to entrance the commander. Zorial could only imagine the memories dancing through his own head as he observed it, slowly reaching out, grasping the ribbon, their fingers grazing. How gently he then took the medal shining it with some stray cloth, tears gathering in the corner of his eyes, some of them landing on the medallion itself.

“She was...my sister…” Another long pause. “To think we once had so many petty squabbles and fights over things like these...I...Thank you. It’s hard to put into words how much this means to me.”

“Are...are you alright?” She stepped forward a bit, reaching up to him.

“No...I’m quite fine...More than fine.” He took a moment to compose himself, wiping the tears from his eyes and from the medal, and radiating a warm smile. “I know we have had our differences in the past, but seeing you now...it’s hard to not see her face again in you. Crippled, yet overcoming so much, and always having a bright spirit.”

“R...Really?” Zorial had nearly started walking away, before looking back with a slight blush.

“I do mean it, sincerely.” He paused for a moment. “Nothing I give you could equal what you have done for me today, but I suppose the best I can do in return is tell you more of the Everlight itself…”

She instantly perked up, scampering until she was only about a foot or two away from him in a moment. “Oh, really?”

“Yes. There is a certain type of pottery, shaped in the lighthouse’s image, that one must take up the tower and collect a bit of the Everlight itself...If your work continues to go as well as it evidently has, I have no doubt in my mind that you’ll find it.” He paused again, fingers on chin. “Of course, we can fly, but the pilgrimage of the Everlight is much more about the spiritual journey than it is the physical destination. I hope you’ll have the chance to make it yourself now.”

An excited skip, and wave. “Noted…See you later, Pado!...can I call you that?”

A chuckle, and amused smile. “...If you really want to, that’s fine.”

He watched every moment as she climbed up the wall, and took off into the sky. Once out of sight, he mumbled to himself, tidying up the courtyard, glancing at the medal once again.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that nickname...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took WAY too long because I got stuck, but hey, I got back to it! Note to self: if you get stuck, put the summary of the intended scene in parentheses, keep writing, and then fill it in later. Ah well, better late than never! And I still love Archaeology long after getting 120...inb4 I get 200mil experience before I finish this thing, LOL. 
> 
> I did love the chance to bring back a character relationship that was tangential to her, namely Padomenes, and make something more wholesome and bring some closure. I love it when canon throws stuff like this in my lap...Honestly, Zorial is such a wholesome WG in general and writing her tends to give me serotonin.
> 
> Tangentially related: I write and plan best with thematic musical inspiration, and I feel like it might be cool to include two of the major ones for this chapter.
> 
> Coliseum itself: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BUy9A4hjJu0
> 
> The ending: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s2NTm0lj8X4
> 
> Thanks for your patience with my ADHD writing schedule!


End file.
